Bed rest is for bitches.

I am of the 8th percentile of women sent to bed for the remainder of pregnancy. It seems that possibly, just possibly all women aren’t meant to carry little human beings in them while working forty-fifty hours and trying to make time for rest. In fact it seems that rest should be the priority when taking on this task. In my rush and worry to keep up with my job’s expectations and secure a financial standing beyond that of a single 20 something I overdid it and like a child I have been sent to my room and punished with unpaid leave. I have to lie down and drink quarts and quarts of liquid. I am allowed to get up to pee, thank God but baths are still strongly suggested as a shower would just be too strenuous. The car rides between home and the hospital have become adventures in themselves. I get to go outside. I get to see people other than Bart and my Mom. Yesterday I had a Dutch Brother’s coffee and it quickly became the highlight of my week. I suppose for now I will cross my fingers and hope for the best and learn to knit. Even the fucking slipknot is complicated. Whoever said this is easy was not in my lucky top 8. I’m BORED.